All My Dreams Pass Before My Eyes - 32. Chapter 32 Okay

Raw. Randy pulled the Sherpa lined lambskin jacket around his chest, huddling against the stiff wind. $5500, or so he’d been told. He hadn’t paid anything for it; it was a gift. And, not even a gift for him. He smiled to himself, thinking of Scottie.

January in Milan. Who wudda thought?

When they got back home from the lake, his relationship with Carey began to cool. What was the future for them, anyway? The sex was, well, incredible. A relationship? Nah. Carey’s mind was already on school. That guy was driven. Randy was on his way to Europe for at least a semester, maybe the entire school year.

And then, there was Scottie. He couldn’t get him out of his mind. First texting, a couple of phone calls, then FaceTime calls, Scottie bare chested most of the time. For his part, Randy was naked for a couple of them, letting the tip of his very hard cock peak into the bottom of the frame. Scottie blushed and giggled.

The idea of Randy taking Scottie to Europe with him seemed outrageous. Until, it wasn’t. Since he turned eighteen, he had full control of one of his trust accounts, the one he would be using until he entered college. So, they talked about it. At length. When Randy was just a hair’s breadth short of begging, Scottie agreed to come along.

The UK, Belgium, Holland, several weeks in Paris. The times of their lives. They toured, ate, hung out, pretended to pick up chicks and other guys. Each night, however, they found themselves back in each other’s arms.

November. The plan was to hit Milan for a few days before escaping to the Amalfi coast and Sicily where it was much warmer.

At first, overwhelmed by the extraordinary boutiques and stores along Via Monte Napoleone, they wandered google-eyed as they stared in the store windows of every major Italian designer. Neither Randy nor Scottie had ever thought much about fashion. Their own clothes could only be described as Gap chic. Now that it was cooler, sweatshirts and khakis, maybe a weathered flannel shirt and jeans. But, the women’s and men’s clothing, the way it was displayed, was more like art. Even the neo-classical architecture and the way the buildings along the avenue were “dressed” was a form of expression.

Out of the corner of his eye, Randy could tell people were staring. Two American boys, one definitely more so than the other. I guess we made quite the pair, he thought. Long brown hair, thick eyebrows, full lips, and bright blue eyes. Slender, almost six feet.

Randy smirked to himself. Scottie was the real attraction. Skinny, maybe 6’2,” narrow hips, long luxurious black hair that fell well past his shoulders, parted in the middle, framing his oval face. Olive brown skin, black eyes, thick eyebrows, and full, sensuous lips. Randy admired the way he carried himself. Nonchalant, blissfully unaware of how he stood out in a crowd.

Head down as he walked through Gardini Indro Montanelli, Pierpallo spoke rapid-fire Italian into his phone, complaining to his chief designer about the progress of next fall’s men’s line. Too many basics, lack of inspiration, falling back on true and trusted items from the previous year. We need a new vision, someone or something that will refresh their business.

“Dolce stil Novo!” He finally screamed in frustration.

Randy and Scottie were walking along the long graceful curve of a tree and flower lined path, both looking toward the gleaming bronze statue of journalist Indro Montanelli, the massive park’s namesake.

Neither saw Pierpallo nor did he see them. The collision sent him stumbling backward, his phone flying out of his hand. Scottie remained upright, barely fazed from the man plowing into him.

Pierpallo began to protest, then stood with his mouth agape.

Standing before him, an amazing young male oggetto. Extraordinarily beautiful, almost sculptural in a way. Lips slightly parted, dark piercing eyes.

“Mi Dispiace,” Scottie said in a half-whisper. He grabbed onto Pierpallo’s arm to help steady him before he fell. I’m sorry, one of the few phrases in Italian he’d picked up.

His mouth opened and closed as he tried to take the whole man in. Without a word, Pierpallo picked his phone off the ground.

Interrupting the person he’d been talking to, he calmly said, “I just found our vision.” Then he clicked off the call.

Switching quickly to English, he engaged the two young men in conversation, all the while appraising the one with the long black hair. After finding out their names and a little bit about their adventures, Pierpallo took out his cigarettes. Both refused his offer, so he lit one for himself. Narrowing his eyes, he studied Scottie even more closely, just to be sure.

And then he was sure.

He persuaded them to accompany him back to his offices. When they reached the renaissance style office building on Via Fillipo Turati, he swung the door open and ushered them up a flight of marble stairs. A single door at the top, pure white frosted glass, not even a door handle. A single word on the door in black lettering: Valentino.

A committee of sorts was ready for them when they entered the exquisitely handsome lobby. In a brief text message, Pierpallo had already shared enough information about Scottie to know who they were looking at. Five people, some of them with their arms crossed, looked him over with a discriminating eye.

Scottie was whisked away while Randy was parked in a small cafe, plied with cappuccino and a stack of magazines.

“Look here! Look there! Turn to the side! Turn to the other side!”

Scottie stood in the middle of a small bare room. The commands came one after the other. Some of them cocked their heads to the side, others squinted or frowned. Pierpallo stood at the back, whispering into the ear of a smart-looking woman.

“That’s it!” Maria Grazia Chuiri said. Leave it to Pallo, she thought, as she let a long breath out. I guess that’s why he is the Creative Director.

Mamma Mia! Would you just look at this ragazzo! The long back hair down to mid-shoulder. Coarse, but they could fix that. That face didn’t need any fixing, though. A perfect oval, beautiful dark eyes, thick eyebrows. Normally, she would have most of those plucked out. Somehow, it made him more alluring, almost wild. Lush lips, the kind any woman, or man for that matter, would love to crush with his or her own. Tall and thin. When they asked him to remove his shirt, she turned to Pierpallo and smirked. Perfectly smooth chest with some nice definition, brown nipples, veins that stood out on his lightly muscled arms.

Maria and Pierpallo gasped and chuckled when Scottie told them he was an American Indian, specifically Cherokee.

“Perfetto!” Maria finally said. The press release was writing itself in front of her very eyes. In the meantime, there was work to do. They needed to create an entire line around this beautiful creature. Just ten weeks to go until Fashion Week.

The time flew by. The design staff, super-charged by inspiration, went to work creating an entire new men’s line. Scottie and Randy were housed in a stylish loft apartment nearby, given a generous allowance for food and entertainment. Countless hours of fittings, runway practice, followed by exhausting photo shoots.

Randy sat in a chair, his elbow up on a table, hand supporting his chin, a twinkly smile on his face. Scottie stood naked in front of him, looking at Randy, a mischievous smile on his own face. His dresser, Francesco, scurried around, trying to make himself look busy. An almost impossible task due to the fact that Scottie was half hard, his dick thickening and rising. Scottie should have been used to it by now. They frequently stripped him down completely during outfit changes.

It was a mild tease. But, for whom? It would have pleased him equally if either Randy or Francesco slumped down to their knees and slurped him up. Hands gripping his hips, cupping the cheeks of his ass. Suddenly, Scottie was in real need.

“Francesco, would you excuse us for a couple of minutes?”

A short while later, Randy used a towel to wipe the residue of cum that was still leaking out of Scottie’s cock. With a low chuckle, he opened the door to let Francesco back in.

He practically fainted when he saw him. Legs slightly apart, hips thrust forward, and that lush crop of black pubic hair. His penis, thick, brown, a large head, still painfully erect. Francesco cleared his throat and tried to stick to business.

Scottie was taking a nap when Randy got back to the apartment. He threw the leather jacket over the back of a chair and got onto the bed, spooning his lover.

It was quiet for a couple of minutes before Scottie groaned and sighed.

The pace at Valentino had now reached a fever pitch. Market Week was less than four weeks away. Ads and billboards were being mocked up. Couture and Prêt-à-Porter items were now being finalized. Valentino Paris was already bugging them for last minute selections. Their Market Week would follow soon after Milan’s.

“I have an idea,” Randy whispered into Scottie’s ear.

“Mmmm.” A soft murmur.

“Let’s get married.”

Scottie jerked up, suddenly fully awake. He turned over, looking hard into Randy’s eyes.

“You mean it?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Well, okay.”

They crushed their lips together.

***

Early in the morning, still dark. Cold out there, but cozy warm in here. Here being underneath a luxurious Scandinavian Vienna Down Comforter. What really was keeping him warm was the body he was curled around.

“C’mon, Sleeping Beauty.” Day gave him a light nudge, the only response being a groan from a still unconscious Liam.

After a deep sigh, Liam crawled out of bed, hugging himself to keep out the chill, before slipping on his sleep shorts. Without a word, he carefully nudged the bedroom door open and tiptoed down the hallway to the guest room he’d occupied for the last couple of weeks. Or, at least, where he kept his stuff and dutifully spent an hour or two each night in bed.

As he felt the sharp spray of water cascading from the rain shower head onto his body, his mind went, once again, as it did frequently, back to the fall semester. The two of them had loved and fucked their way across the entire continent of Europe. Fucked was probably the wrong word. Loved and made love were a better pairing. Andy MacPhail, their group leader, had finally shrugged his shoulders and given into the idea of letting the two boys bunk together at every stop.

“Sure! As long as I can watch.”

A pregnant pause. Liam’s mouth dropped open.

“Just kidding!” Andy slapped Day on the side of his arm. “You guys do whatever you want.” He was half-kidding. Actually, the idea of these two hotties going at it in bed sounded pretty good. But, he was straight. At least, he thought he was.

Along the way, Liam spilled the beans. About everything. He spared no details, telling Day about the photo shoots and the videos, the good stuff and the bad. Day didn’t believe him until Liam showed him one of the videos on a porn site. Afterwards, Liam wept unabashedly.

“Don’t worry,” Day assured him, “those days are over!”

When they returned to New York after spending an extraordinarily romantic Christmas in Paris, Liam didn’t hesitate for a moment when the Benjamin’s invited him to stay on. His dad’s emails forecast trouble if and when he returned to LA. Brett already had a string of projects lined up for him. Somehow, the idea of taking off his clothes for some pervy film director now felt even more tawdry than ever. Bring your friend with you, his dad had written a couple of times. Liam just huffed. It didn’t take some kind of a genius to figure out what he had in mind.

Richard and Jane Benjamin, she an Astor, were New York royalty, their values and prejudices well baked in. Their attitude about Gay people was mildly tolerant as long as the idea of it was confined to their favorite interior decorator or through tales of some of their second or third cousins paling around with Truman Capote. Political persuasion was just to the right of Attila the Hun.

So, Day kept his relationship with Liam cleverly hidden. A furtive glance here, a quickly stolen kiss in the pantry, a clutch or grab on the stairway of their multi-level townhouse, or sneaking around so they could share a bed at night, as long as the pretense was extended to insure they were in separate beds by the morning.

The first couple of days back were spent organizing all of the photos and video from their semester abroad into a tightly woven slide show. Of course, the best ones, the x-rated ones, of which there were hundreds, were swept into a hidden folder on Day’s laptop. From his time in the adult film biz, Liam had picked up some editing techniques which he put to good use crafting an entertaining one-hour program of their great adventure, complete with sound, music, and captions.

For the world premiere, the Benjamin’s invited their best friends, the Turner’s, over for cocktails and nibbles. That’s where Liam met CeeCee, a remarkably cute girl who was currently a freshman at Columbia. Bouncy and bubbly, she hugged Day tightly, pulling his head down so she could give him a loud smack on the cheek.

“Have you talked to Toby,” she asked Day, once the initial pleasantries were out of the way?

“Ah…no. I mean, not since before I left for Europe.”

“We’ve IM’d a couple of times. You knew he was going to Savannah Tech, right?”

“Oh yeah, yeah. He got a new job, too, I think, working at a shmancy hotel in Savannah.”

“Yeah,” CeeCee giggled. “Did you know he met some relative of yours?”

Day colored a bit. “Yeah.”

Liam looked at Day, a curious look on his face.

“Who’s Toby?” He tried not to sound alarmed. Or jealous.

“Never mind. Tell ya later,” Day responded, trying not to sound dismissive.

The fact of the matter was that Day had talked to Toby several times, either over IM or by FaceTime. He knew a lot more than he was letting on. In particular, Toby had told him in detail about what took place in cousin Winnie’s hotel room. When he’d last talked to Toby, Day found out that the Professor had invited him up to campus to, according to Toby, meet some of his colleagues. They had, cousin Winnie assured him, some shared interests.

“Be careful. Be very careful,” Day warned Toby.

Their conversation was interrupted when Vonnie came over.

“Introduce me to your young beautiful friend,” she purred, her eyes zeroing in on Liam.

After introductions, some polite talk. Vonnie tried to lead the conversation, all the while glancing at Liam out of the corner of her eye. What an extraordinarily good look young man, she thought. His brown eyes stood out, almost as if he was wearing make-up. Smooth, slightly tan complexion, cute haircut, over his ears, down on his forehead. He could be a model.

“You look mildly familiar,” she said to Liam, as she unconsciously swept her hand around her ass.

Liam colored a bit.

“Oh, I dunno,” his voice trailing off.

“I’ve got it,” she exclaimed, snapping a finger. “Vogue magazine, a swimwear ad for Patagonia!”

Liam chuckled, blushing further, embarrassed.

“Well, yeah. I guess I did some work for them last year.” One of his better paying jobs. His dad had been thrilled. And, it didn’t even involve showing off his privates.

Both CeeCee and Day stared at Liam in amazement.

“I know this is rather forward,” Vonnie said, “You know, CeeCee isn’t seeing anyone right now.”

Both Liam and Day now turned to look at Vonnie in disbelief.

“Oh, mom, really,” CeeCee exclaimed in surprise and disgust!

Later that night, Day and Liam lay next to each other, head-to-toe. They both gasped for breath after an exhilarating round of sixty-nine.

“So, tell me,” Liam finally said. “Everything.”

Day brushed his hand along Liam’s hip. Like velvet, he thought. How could nature have created someone so beautiful?

A long breath, in and out. “Ok, here goes.”

The whole Toby story came spilling out. Day even showed Liam a picture. A selfie, taken in the reflection of his bathroom mirror, without a shirt on. One of those guys, Liam thought, who is so plain, he’s plainly attractive. When Day zoomed out, the rest of him appeared, naked, a cute half hard prick clearly visible. Day admitted to a few other dalliances both before and after meeting Toby. He’d even let that clerk at Adam Mar, Dandy Don, jerk him off outside, in back of the store.

After hearing it all, Liam turned on his back, eyes to the ceiling, and let out a long breath.

“I dunno, Day. I dunno.”

Day flipped over and turned around, up on his elbows, and grabbed Liam by the chin.

“Here me now,” he said firmly. “All that’s over. You’re the one!”

They looked each other squarely, eye-to-eye, for the longest time.

“Okay,” Liam barely whispered.

They held each other. It was quiet for a long while.

“Say, my folks have a condo in St. Barth’s.”

“Hmmm.” Liam closed his eyes, just imagining what it would be like. “Sounds like a plan.”